CHAPTER THREE
MAKE ME SMILE (COME UP AND SEE ME)


Marlene closes her eyes, letting it wash over her. She feels utterly relaxed, like her body weighs nothing, like she's drifting on a cloud.

"This is amazing... I'd no idea there were charms like this."

She opens her eyes. She's floating next to Nicola Selwyn, somewhere near the ceiling of an unused classroom.

Nicola smiles at her. Marlene thinks she's a lot prettier when she actually smiles. "And I'd no idea you were so good at casting them," says Nicola dreamily. "You just keep getting better and better... oops—"

She tilts a little and grabs Marlene's forearm for support. They giggle as if this is outrageously funny.

"What time is it?" says Marlene suddenly. "Feels like we've been here forever..."

"Feels nice though..."

"Yeah..." Marlene says, but something is nagging at her, she can't quite place it… "Maybe we ought to come down. My friends will wonder where I've gone."

Nicola closes her eyes and nods in agreement. They grasp hands. Slowly, they both sink back to earth, landing with a soft thump.

"Check if anyone's outside," says Nicola.

Marlene opens the classroom door and peers around.

"Don't think so."

Nicola nods, adjusts her skirt and hair a little, and then walks out.

"See you around," she says.

Marlene stares after. "Yeah..."


Lily is lying awake, staring at the canopy of her bed.

The door opens and she hears it, sitting up so she can see who's come in. It has the vague shape and size of Marlene, tripping over the chair next to the door and making an awful racket as she tries to detangle herself.

"Marlene? Is that you?" Lily calls into the darkness.

Marlene looks up. "Lily... Yeah... everything's great, Lily, everything's really great. Night, Lily."

Without another word she clambers into her bed and passes out.

Lily looks confused, but finally lies back down and rolls over.

She wakes to a bright triangle of sun cutting across her duvet.

After a moment, she wakens fully and sits up, blinking sleep away. She glances over at the clock on her bedside table.

She gets up, then looks over at Marlene's bed. Marlene is sound asleep.

"Marlene. Marlene?"

Marlene rustles. "Hmm.. whazzat?"

"Marlene, wake up, don't you know what today is?"

Marlene frowns, not even opening her eyes. "Hmm? Thursday?"

"It's Saturday," says Lily anxiously. "The Quidditch match is today, Marlene, shouldn't you be up?"

Marlene comes fully awake and sits up, looking deeply bewildered.

"Oh... fuck. I feel... awful." She says.

"Are you sick?" Lily asks in concern. "I heard you come in last night… were you drinking?"

"No, I was..." She shakes her head, slides out of bed and heads to her mirror to squint at her reflection. Her hair, squashed from sleep, is all to one side.

Lily follows her. "You've been getting back really late a lot recently, Marlene. Is anything the matter?"

Marlene turns, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "I'm fine, Lily. Stop worrying, for fuck's sake. You're always worrying about everything, it drives me mad, honestly. I can't stand it at all."

She rummages under her bed, pulls out her Quidditch bag. Lily watches her with some alarm. Marlene doesn't sound like herself at all.

"Alright... see you later then. Potter wants team breakfast. Stupid, isn't it?"

Shaking her head in amusement, Marlene shuffles out of the dormitory.

"What's with her?"

Dorcas is standing by her bed, dressed in Gryffindor regalia for the match.

"I've no idea," says Lily.

Dorcas shrugs, inspects herself critically in her own mirror. "Well I hope everything's alright. Hm... how do I look, Lily? How's my hair?"

Lily sighs a little and answers truthfully. "Your hair looks great, Dorcas. You look really pretty, like always."

Dorcas smiles gratefully over at her.

"Oh thanks, that's sweet of you. I just worry, I don't know..."

"Trying to impress someone, are you?" asks Lily curiously. Dorcas is one of the prettiest girls in their year, she's never known her to be actually worried about that fact.

Dorcas touches up her lipstick, then closes the tube and puts it away.

"Yes, maybe, I—" She glances at Lily and stops. "Oh, look who I'm talking to. You wouldn't understand, would you."

"You don't know that," says Lily, a little hurt. "Maybe I would understand. I know we've not been close, but you can still tell me if you like. We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yes of course we are. It's not that, its just— well, it's James. Potter, I mean."

Lily sours instantly.

"Oh," she says, unable to muster up anything but distaste.

"See, I knew you'd react like that, that's why I didn't want to tell you," says Dorcas.

"I can't see why you like him. He's a horrible bully," Lily says, crossing her arms.

"He's not as bad as all that, honest."

"Oh yeah? Then why'd he attack my friend Sev yesterday? You should have seen the mess they made of his face, he looked awful. And then they threw his wand in the bushes. Doesn't that strike you as cruel?"

Dorcas flinches a little but recovers, her tone now cool and pointed. "Was that before or after your mate attacked Remus Lupin in the hall?"

Lily is thrown. "What?"

"Yeah, I heard it during Defence," says Dorcas hotly. "So looks like your friend isn't as innocent as he seems. Picking on poor Remus like that, just because he's different. Doesn't that strike you as cruel?"

With that, she leaves the room and Lily to absorb this information. Was it true, had Sev really attacked Remus Lupin? She'd always had somewhat of a soft spot for her fellow prefect, at least compared to his friends, and she knew him well enough to know that Remus wouldn't have deliberately attacked anyone. No, this must be Potter or Black making things up to try and mess with Sev… it was typical, really…


James Potter, dressed in his Quidditch kit, paces anxiously in front of the doors to the Great Hall.

When he sees Marlene come down the staircase, he hurries to her side.

"There you are," he says, relieved. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

"Oh don't worry so bloody much, Potter. It's not good for you."

James frowns at her. Something seems off about Marlene, but he isn't sure what.

"Yeah, well, someone has to. Come on, the others are waiting."

She follows him and he opens the doors into the Great Hall, where the air is abuzz with news of the Quidditch match. The Slytherin and Gryffindor tables have been turned into solid masses of green and red, respectively.

James leads Marlene to the far end of the Gryffindor table, which has been especially reserved for the Quidditch team, all tucking into their breakfasts with gusto.

"I thought I said not to start," says James with irritation.

"Sorry, Potter, we got hungry," says Cresswell through a mouthful of toast. "What does it matter?"

James sighs. "S'pose it doesn't. Marlene, have a seat. I just want to go over a few things before the match starts."

She takes a seat and starts taking little sausages from a serving dish nearby, popping them into her mouth directly. The team looks at her as she starts chewing slowly, ecstatically.

"Merlin's balls, I was starved." Says Marlene, gulping down pumpkin juice.

"Well, eat quickly— but not too quickly, mind, so you've got time to digest properly before the match," says James worriedly. "Alright, now remember what I was saying about Slytherin's offence? Their chasers might look scary, yeah, but their defence is rubbish. I was watching their practise and their keeper was letting goals in all the time. Not because they were that good, either, but because they've got no idea how to defend their own hoops. All they care about is brute force, and that's going to the advantage we need to win this. We're the better team, easily."

"You were watching their practise?" asks Daren Turner. "Didn't they spot you?"

"I was well hidden. Believe me, they've got no finesse at all, no coordination—"

There's a loud clatter as Marlene puts her elbow down on a plate, sending it flying. She laughs madly.

"Oooooops..."

They stare at her.

"You feeling alright, McKinnon?"

"Yeah, I'm fantastic. Fan-tastic."

Marlene nods vigorously to convince them, but none of them look convinced.

"Marlene, what's—" begins James, but he's interrupted.

"Hey, James!"

He turns to see Dorcas walking past with her friend Blanca, a small Spanish girl. Dorcas holds out her hand, offering him something.

"What's this?" He asks, curiously.

"Take it and see," she says. Blanca behind her is trying not to giggle. James, for his part, tries not to look at her as he stands up to receive it.

He opens his palm to see two shining gold coins.

"It's the two galleon I owe you," says Dorcas with a smile.

James grins too. "Thanks. I was starting to think I'd never see it."

"Well, I thought you might need some extra luck today. I mean, not that you need any luck, but… well, you know what I mean."

"I never turn down extra luck." As she turns to leave, he calls after her: "Although, hang on—"

She stops, waiting expectantly.

"Don't you owe me something else too?

Dorcas is confused, then realises what he's on about and blushes.

"Oh."

"A bit more luck couldn't hurt, couldn't it?" he says hopefully. He's all too conscious of his entire team plus giggly Blanca, watching the exchange.

She laughs, then leans forward and kisses him on the cheek.

"Score some goals for me and we'll see how lucky you are," she says.

His hand jumps to his hair nervously.

"Yeah— yeah. I'll definitely do that." He says, mouth rather dry.

She smiles shyly at him and departs, immediately clinging to Blanca to squeal about the occurred with her.

A mixture of pleased and shocked, James sits back down to a chorus of 'oooh's from his team.

"Yeah, yeah, leave it out."

"Can I give you a kiss for luck too?" says Fenwick.

"No. Shut up."

"You can kiss me, Benj," Cresswell offers.

Fenwick leans over and does so, on the cheek, and then mocks Dorcas in a falsetto. "Score some goals for me, my love."

Cresswell grins and adopts a gruff, manly voice. "Anything for you, babes."

The team laughs, except for James, and Marlene— who is dragging a bit of toast covered in egg yolk across her plate with great concentration.

"Merlin's bollocks, enough already," says James. "Aisha, you remember what I told you about controlling your dives?"

"I've been working really hard on them," says the tiny second-year.

"I know. I can tell."

He gives her a proud look, and she grins back.

James addresses the whole team. "We've all been working really hard, and we were good to begin with. We've got this in the bag."

Just then, Marlene knocks over her pumpkin juice and watches it spread, spread across the table and drip over the edge onto her lap.


Mary sits on the armchair near the fire, her legs curled up to her chest. She stares into the flames, lost in thought. She's the only one in the common room; everyone else has gone to see the match.

The portrait hole opens— Lily enters, spotting Mary and making a beeline for her.

"There you are," she says. "I couldn't find you at breakfast. I had to eat alone! Marlene was sitting with the team, obviously I couldn't sit with—"

She thinks better of bringing up Severus.

"—anyone else. Even Dorcas is annoyed with me, so I couldn't sit with her and Blanca either."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," says Mary.

Lily laughs a little. "Right. So, coming to the match?"

Mary looks away. "Oh, no, I don't think so."

"What? Why not? Don't you want to see Marlene play? Not to mention Cresswell, you and him have been awfully friendly lately, haven't you? I think it's good, he's very—"

Mary interrupts her stream of chatter. "I don't want to go, Lily. You go and have fun."

"Come on Mary," Lily wheedles. "You barely ever leave the common room unless it's for classes, and sometimes not even for that. You need some fresh air."

"I can stick my head out of a window, can't I?"

Lily looks at her sternly. "Mary."

"What?"

"It'll do you some good, come on or we'll be late."

"Oh, stop worrying about me, honestly Lily. You're always worrying about everything."

Lily frowns, remembering what Marlene had said earlier that morning. "I'm not always worrying, I just—" She stops, and switches tactics. "Fine, please yourself then. Shame, though, Cresswell will be disappointed if you don't show. I know he was hoping you'd be there."

Mary looks up at her. "Shit. Was he really? He said that?"

Lily nods encouragingly.

"Stupid wanker... fine, then. I'll just get my coat. Hang on."


The stands are just starting to fill with students, and on the Slytherin end, Sev, Avery, Wilkes, Nicola and Shea are sidling their way into seats at the very top— far from the other students.

"Oh I do hope we win," says Wilkes, rubbing his hands together. "I shouldn't like to see the cup go to Gryffindor again this year."

"Didn't realise you cared so much about Quidditch, Wilkes." Avery says.

"Isn't your cousin keeper on the Gryffindor team?" Shea asks.

Wilkes feigns ignorance. "Sorry, who? I'll be interested to see how Regulus does in his first match. He's nothing like his brother, is he? Quite a pleasant young man."

"I don't even know who they've got playing seeker," says Shea musingly. "Regulus ought to be better than some second year. But their chasers have been a force to be reckoned with for years now. Our side's a bit of a mess in that department."

"Who are their chasers?" Asks Wilkes.

"Potter, obviously..."

Snape scoffs.

Shea continues: "Some mudblood named Cresswell, and... that tall blonde girl in our year as well. McKinnon, isn't it."

Severus notices Nicola Selwyn twitch at the sound of McKinnon's name. He frowns. She's been acting a little oddly all day, in his opinion.

"Oh, the legs!" Says Avery. "She's quite a looker that one, isn't she?"

"Is she? I think she's rather plain," Nicola says snootily.

"Well, I'd shag her." Says Avery. "I'll bet she's an absolute pixie in the sack, too. Quidditch reflexes and all."

He laughs, and this visibly irritates Selwyn.

"Forget it, Avery. She'd never touch you. She's... friends with Mary MacDonald and… all that lot."

Severus doesn't miss her pointed look towards him; it's obvious who she means by 'all that lot.'

"Well I reckon I could pull her if I wanted," says Avery sulkily.

Severus says nothing. Avery is always boasting about his conquests, about his prowess with girls— it's not entirely clear to Severus whether or not it's true.

Nicola scoffs. "Believe me, you couldn't. She doesn't like nasty little rats like you."

"How do you know so bloody much about what she likes, anyway?"

"I don't, alright? I just know she wouldn't like you."

Avery is about to sneer something back when Mulciber and Rosier arrive, sliding onto the bench next to Severus.

"Hello, all," Mulciber greets them.

"I thought you weren't going to come to the game in the end," says Avery.

Mulciber shrugs. "We decided it might be nice to spend some time with our friends."

"'We' decided, did we?" says Shea with a snort. "And here I was thinking Rosier didn't know how to make decisions on his own."

"Watch it, you smug Paddy bastard," Rosier growls.

Shea scoffs and ignores the insult. "Is it starting?" he says.

"Yes, look, there they go." Wilkes points as a stream of red-clad figures rise into the air and form a straight line, followed by a stream of green-clad ones from the other side.

"Can't see anything from up here," Wilkes complains. He extracts a monocle from his pocket and peers through it, panning across the line of Gryffindors. "There's Potter, Cresswell…. the keeper… McKinnon… you're right, she is a looker. Seems a bit dozy, if you ask me, though."

"You look like a prat with that thing on," snaps Nicola, a little too aggressively.

"What's your problem, Selwyn?" He says, bringing the monocle down. "It's a Magnocle, for your information, I got it at Dervish and Banges…"

"Wilkes, give me that," says Mulciber suddenly.

Wilkes looks at him, affronted. "What? Why?"

Avery rolls his eyes, grabs the chain and rips it roughly from Wilkes' shirt. Wilkes gapes at him.

"He said give it to him, you prick."

Avery hands it to Mulciber without another word, and Mulciber starts looking through it, not at the players but the crowd, scanning the sea of people intently. Severus frowns, wondering what he could be searching for.


"Welcome, Hogwarts, to the first Quidditch match of the year!" The magically amplified voice Bertram Aubrey, the sixth year Ravenclaw who commentates school Quidditch matches, roars across the stadium.

The crowd goes wild as the opposing sides face each other, sizing each other up warily. Between them is Madam Hooch, who has the Quaffle tucked under her arm.

"My name is Bertram Aubrey and it's my absolute pleasure to be your official commentator during this match, a highly anticipated game between Slytherin—"

He allows for cheering from the Slytherin side and booing from the Gryffindors.

James looks behind him. Marlene is drifting, slowly, to the right.

Finally she bumps into Fenwick, who is startled but manages to stay in control of his broom.

"Marlene, what the hell are you playing at?" James shouts at her.

"Sorry, I'm just... I can't really..."

"—and defending champions, Gryffindor!"

More cheering and booing, accordingly.

"Slytherin's band of thugs, led by captain Thalia Rowle, fellow beater Dawes; chasers Levine, Andrews, MacNair; keeper Rossi, seeker Black. He's small, isn't he, looks like a different species compared to the rest of them..."

While he speaks, James circles back towards Marlene, growing agitated.

"McKinnon, what's wrong with you? Are you alright to play? Should I call Madam Hooch?"

Marlene shakes her head urgently. "I'm fine, Potter. I can play. I can play. I can—"

James isn't convinced, but he has to trust his player. "You fucking keep it together, Marlene."

"...Gryffindor's lineup is for some reason headed by James Potter, not the most senior or most talented member of their team—"

"Oh, piss off, Aubrey!"

"—followed by fellow chasers Cresswell and McKinnon, beaters Turner and Kane, keeper Fenwick, and seeker Hossain. We'll see if this ragtag team can live up to the high expectations set during last year's final."

James rolls his eyes, grips his broom handle.

Below, the trunk containing the bludgers and snitch rattles in anticipation.

"Captains, shake hands." Commands Hooch.

James and Thalia Rowle, a burly and aggressive seventh year girl, fly towards each other and shake hands.

"Prepare to eat dirt, Potter," growls Thalia. She's a lot bigger than he is.

James stares back at her fearlessly. "You'll have to tell me how it tastes."

They fly back to their teams, waiting, waiting...

Hooch waves her wand and the trunk flies open— the bludgers shoot out like cannonballs in opposite directions and the snitch flits after them.

"The bludgers are loose, the snitch is out..."

James breathes deeply, pressing himself flat to his broomstick. Time seems to slow down...

Madam Hooch launches the Quaffle into the air, it goes spinning upwards slowly slowly slowly—

She blows her whistle, and the game snaps into action, James launching himself forward instantly into the sky.


"And we're off, with Potter immediately taking possession. He's doing some tricky manoeuvres, which he may or may not be able to pull off— alright, he pulled that one off, granted. Passes to Cresswell— no, that was a feint, Potter still has possession—"

"Is he just going to hang on to it the whole game? Seems a bit stupid." Says Wilkes.

Severus sneers. "I'm sure Potter's just trying to show off."

"I don't think so," says Shea thoughtfully. "This is a pretty standard tactic, at least in pro Quidditch. You watch, in a minute they're going to start passing to each other as much as possible, then back to one, and so forth. Create as much confusion and unpredictability as possible."

"Why aren't you on our team, Shea? Since you know so much about it and all." Asks Avery.

Shea shrugs. "I would've tried out but I can't stand anyone on the team— they're all just Thalia Rowe's seventh year friends and twice as thick as she is."

"They're all very large, certainly," agrees Wilkes.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you make a beater the captain. Strategy goes out the window. Look, here it comes."


James, streaking through the sky and flanked by all three Slytherin chasers, dips low suddenly and throws the Quaffle to Cresswell, who catches it.

"Actually passes to Cresswell this time, Cresswell with the Quaffle—"

The Slytherins change their focus, but Cresswell has already passed to James, then crosses under him as the Slytherins bare down on him.

"—back to Potter— back to Cresswell— Cresswell to McKinnon—"

Cresswell throws it at Marlene and it falls right through her grasp.

"—McKinnon flubs it and drops the Quaffle! Gryffindor has lost the Quaffle!"

Slytherin chaser Macnair snatches it from under her and soars wide in the opposite direction, James and Cresswell in hot pursuit.

"What the hell was that, McKinnon?" James shouts angrily at Marlene as he flies past.

"Slytherin's MacNair now with possession, heading towards the Gryffindor hoops. Looks like he means business. Potter and Cresswell on his tail but he's ahead of them, and it looks like he's going to make it—"

Macnair reaches the goalhoops and throws the Quaffle with all his might— but Fenwick blocks it, punting it at breakneck speed towards Marlene— who doesn't see it coming, and it bounces off her shoulder. It falls into the hands of a Slytherin chaser.

"Fenwick saves rather nicely, but we're seeing an interesting playstyle from Gryffindor chaser McKinnon which seems to involve not paying any attention to the Quaffle at all. Slytherin's Andrews retakes possession."

James and Cresswell look at each other, realising that the game is entirely on them.


"What's wrong with McKinnon?" Says Shea. "We've all seen her play, she looks confunded or something."

Avery snickers. "Yeah, or charmed out of her mind."

Nicola's hand flies to her mouth.

"Andrews immediately drops the Quaffle after taking a nasty bludger hit courtesy of Gryffindor's Turner. Cresswell has it again and he's off. Slytherin chasers hot on his tail, and he's having to bank steeply upwards to avoid them."

"What are you looking at, Mulciber?" Says Wilkes. "Nothing's happening on that side."

Mulciber is still peering through the monocle towards the Gryffindor stands.

"There you are," he says finally.

Mulciber stands up, shoving the monocle back at Wilkes.

"Here's your Magnocle back, Devereux."

"Where are you going?" Asks Wilkes, taking it from him.

"Just spotted an old friend," replies Mulciber cryptically. "Severus, come with me."

"What for?" Severus says warily, but he gets to his feet.

"You'll see. We'll see the rest of you after the match."

They leave, climbing down the stands.

"Where are they going?" Wilkes says, a little unhappy at being left out.

"Who cares?" says Shea. "I want to know which brilliant, evil bastard on our side confunded McKinnon. This is hilarious. Absolutely despicable, but hilarious."

"It's not funny," says Nicola

He frowns at her, confused.


Cresswell is still tearing up towards the sky, being blocked in by all three of the Slytherin chasers. At the height of his ascent, they surround him.

"Looks like Cresswell's got nowhere left to go."

"Nowhere to go, Cresswell." Macnair taunts him.

Cresswell shrugs, grins, and drops the Quaffle.

It drops fifty feet into James's waiting hands below.

"But it looks like Cresswell and Potter have done a Porskoff Ploy, which isn't usually advisable but seems to have worked out alright in this case, given that the Slytherin chasers are all impressively unintelligent... Potter, once again with possession."

Unimpeded, James streaks towards the Slytherin goalhoops.

"All that's standing in his way now is the keeper, Rossi, we'll see if Rossi can—"

The keeper, Rossi, looks at him uncomprehendingly, and James doesn't hesitate a second before sending the Quaffle sailing through the leftmost hoop.

"Nevermind that, then. Potter scores the first goal of the game. This is tense, isn't it? Clearly, Slytherin would've been hideously outmatched if one of Gryffindor's chasers didn't seem to be a few feathers short of an Augurey."


Mary and Lily are sitting in the Gryffindor stands, looking up worriedly.

"What's wrong with Marlene?"

"I don't know..." Lily replies, biting her lip. "She was acting so strangely this morning... I should've realised something was off."

Hooch's whistle sounds.

"And Slytherin's Macnair has just been told off for flagging."

"What's flagging?" Asks Lily.

"I think it's when they grab someone's broom." Mary peers up at the struggle happening above them. "I think that bastard's just tried to pull Dirk off his broom."

Lily's eyes widen in concern. "What? Shouldn't that be a penalty?"

Sure enough, the whistle sounds again.

"And penalty to Gryffindor! Looks like Potter's calling for a time out, probably so he can smack some sense into their rogue chaser."


The Gryffindor team groups up at one end of the pitch, and James immediately rounds on Marlene.

"What. Is. Happening?" he snarls.

Marlene looks at him desperately. "I don't know, I can't focus, I can't focus on anything."

James looks thunderous. "Then you'd better stay out of our fucking way."

She starts to speak, but he interrupts.

"No, I don't want to hear anything you've got to say. I'll deal with you later. Cresswell, me and you will just have to do what we can between the two of us."

Cresswell nods, breathing hard.

"Looks like their Chasers are even more rubbish than we thought, so I reckon we might be alright—"

"They're also more aggressive," says James. "Macnair nearly tried to kill you."

"Nothing I can't handle, Potter," Cresswell says calmly.

James takes a deep breath. "Alright. Alright. Aisha, you need to find me that fucking snitch and end this nightmare as quickly as possible while we're still ahead, you hear me."

She nods.

"That's my girl. Alright, everyone ready? You heard that wanker on the megaphone, even down a chaser we're still better than them. It might not be pretty, but we're still going to win."

Marlene looks absolutely despondent, stifles a sob, but the team ignores her.

"Alright, come on then," says James.

He takes the Quaffle from Hooch as all the players line up behind him for the penalty. Once again, the keeper is the only thing in his way.

James feints left, then punts the Quaffle neatly through the centre goalhoop with ease.

"And to nobody's surprise, Potter scores!"

James takes both hands off his broom handle to give his team two thumbs up as he soars away from the goals, grinning again.


Lily shields her eyes with her hand, trying to see what's happening. The players are zooming around in the air, with Cresswell and Potter ricocheting around the pitch, passing the Quaffle back and forth between them. Aubrey commentates this in a bored voice.

"...Cresswell... Potter... back to Cresswell... Potter... Cresswell again... Potter again... Cresswell, Potter..."

"Lily? Can I have a word?"

Lily and Mary turn to see Severus, wringing his hands anxiously. Lily looks at him, surprised, then at Mary— whose expression has instantly grown dark.

"Sev! What are you doing here?"

"I— I just need to talk to you. Er, in private."

He casts Mary a nervous glance, and she glares back.

"Whatever you want to say, I'm sure you can say it here." Mary says, arms crossed.

He looks around twitchily. "Well, it's sort of personal..."

"Ooh, personal, is it?"

"Sev, maybe it can wait..." Lily says uncomfortably.

He takes a deep breath, seems to steel himself. "No, I'm afraid it really can't."

Mary rolls her eyes. "Oh, just go, why don't you. I'll be here."

She turns away from them to watch the match again. Lily stands up and follows Sev away, down the stairs.

"Gryffindor beater Kane narrowly saves Potter from being clobbered by a bludger. Shame."

Severus leads Lily into a little alcove under the stands and stops, looking around nervously.

"What's so urgent, then?" Lily says, hands on her hips.

"Er, I, that is— I wanted to warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"Something that's— it's M— it's—" He can't quite get the words out.

Lily frowns. Over her shoulder, Severus sees Mulciber climbing the stands towards where Mary still sits. He closes his mouth.

Lily, now concerned, places a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on, Sev?"

Sev looks at her hand, then away.

"It's Potter," he invents wildly. "I came to warn you about Potter."

Lily raises her eyebrows, sceptical. "You came to warn me about Potter. Well unless he's been brewing polyjuice potion, I don't think he's any immediate danger to us while he's flying around up there. What's got you so nervous?"

"I just think he's up to something, planning something, and whatever it is, it's trouble. I think you of all people ought to be careful."

"I ought to be— Sev, what's this all about? What proof have you got?"

He twitches. "I haven't got any proof, alright, it's just..."

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me, Sev." She frowns at him, remembering something. "Is it true you tried to curse Remus Lupin the other day? Dorcas Meadowes said you did."

Severus wrenches away from her, defensive. "So what if I did? They were pushing me around and I was only defending myself, he's one of them isn't he? When have you ever seen him standing up for me when his mates push me around?

"I s'pose that's true, but I still don't think you should've done it," Lily says. "You don't want to be as bad as them, do you?"

Severus doesn't answer.


Mary is still watching the game when someone sits down in the seat next to her.

Thinking it's Lily, she turns to say something and freezes when she sees him, eyes going wide with fear.

"Mary! It's been a while, hasn't it?" He grins at her with gleaming teeth. She can't help but be reminded of a wolf, or a dragon— he looks like he's about to eat her.

"Not long enough," she says tersely."

Mulciber chuckles warmly. "Why don't you come with me?"

Mary goggles at him. "You're mad. I wouldn't go anywhere with you."

"Now, that hurts my feelings."

"As if you've got any."

He pulls out his wand, resting it on his lap with the tip pointed casually at her.

Mary looks down at it, then out at the players still zooming around the pitch, not really seeing them. She could shout for help— Sirius Black is only two rows away, there's loads of people around her who would help her—

"Cresswell scores! Slytherin has barely touched the Quaffle so far, which is frankly so embarrassing they may never be able to live it down."

"I said, come with me."

"No."

Mulciber shrugs. "Well, I didn't want to do it this way, but you've left me no choice."

He leans close to her, raises his wand to her neck. She swallows visibly, staring forward. He whispers the incantation in her ear.

"Imperio."

The fear drains from Mary and her mind goes oddly, blissfully blank.

Come with me, Mary, there's a girl…

She can feel it resounding in her mind even as she sees his lips move…

He stands, starts walking away. She follows.


Marlene skirts low along the side of the pitch, trying to avoid the other players. She figures the best she can do is try and keep an eye out for the snitch, and somehow let Aisha know if she spots it.

"Potter scores! Again! The Cresswell-Potter duo is working so well together that it's actually becoming boring to watch. The Slytherin keeper ought to get his eyes checked."

Marlene twists around to see what's going on near the Slytherin hoops— she doesn't see Thalia Rowle carefully slip in front of her, and smashes roughly into her side. Thalia recovers quickly.

"Blatching! Ref! That was deliberate blatching! She flew right into me!"

Hooch's whistle sounds to signify the penalty to Slytherin.

James glares at Marlene as the teams line up again.

"Stop trying to help, McKinnon."

"I wasn't! It was her, she blocked me on purpose." Marlene protests.

James scoffs and ignores her, turning to watch as Macnair takes the Quaffle and approaches the goalhoops.

"Come on, Fenwick..." says Cresswell through gritted teeth.

Macnair feints centre and shoots right— it goes through the hoop, clipping the edge. For the first time the whole game, the Slytherin side erupts in cheers.

"And Macnair manages to score, giving Slytherin something to cheer about. A ray of hope that will soon be crushed, I expect."

"Fuck," swears James. "Now we have to fight them for possession again, thanks a lot McKinnon, really great.

"Just leave it, Potter, we'll get it back in two shakes," says Cresswell.

James looks angry and anxious as they fly back into position. "Aisha, find that fucking snitch!"

The Quaffle is launched into the air— bolstered by their small victory, Slytherin chaser Andrews seizes it.

James and Cresswell pursue him.

Andrews passes to Levine, who passes it back— Andrews scores.

"Slytherin takes the Quaffle for a change, Andrews with the Quaffle... passes to Levine, who passes it back to him. Andrews approaching the Gryffindor posts— and he's scored. Slytherin now has... well, a whopping twenty points. That's one hundred-twenty to Gryffindor. This is just sad."


Lily storms purposefully back up the stands to where she was sitting, with Severus hurrying after her and looking anguished.

"Just go back to the Slytherin stands, Sev, I've already left Mary for too long and you didn't tell me anything that couldn't have waited until after the match."

She passes the Marauders. Sirius Black sticks his foot out and trips Severus, who barely manages to grab onto the seat in front and stay on his feet.

Lily notices none of this, preoccupied with her sudden realisation that Mary has vanished.

"Great, now she's wandered off to who knows where. Thanks a lot, Sev. Mary's been having a really hard time of it and it was really important to me that she came out here today."

Severus flushes, feeling truly and completely ashamed of himself. "I'm really, really sorry."

Lily hardly seems to hear him.

"Look, I'll talk to you later. You can tell me all your mad theories about Potter and his mates then, I'm going back to the castle to find Mary."

She hurries down the stands and away, leaving Severus to his torment.

"She didn't look very happy, did she?" crows Black, and Pettigrew laughs.

Severus ignores them and scrambles down the stands, into the tunnel that runs the circumference of the stadium.


Mulciber opens the door to a broom closet and holds it open for Mary.

"Get inside," he orders.

She does and stands there, looking at him blankly. He follows her.

Mulciber regards her.

"Sooner or later I'm going to have to... deal with you, but first I want to have a bit of fun. I must say I rather like seeing you like this. This, here, this is the natural state of things. How it should be between wizards like me and jumped up little mudblood tarts like yourself. No insubordination, only deference."

Mary doesn't react.

"Now Mary, I want you to tell me that I am your natural superior and you'll do whatever I say."

When Mary speaks it is soft, barely a shadow of herself.

"You are my natural superior, and I'll do whatever you say."

Mulciber's smile is wide and predatory.

"That's right," he says.


Hooch's whistle blows.

"And that's a foul! Penalty to Gryffindor."

Severus, barely hearing the tumult of the match, runs full tilt through the corridor under the stands, flinging open doors of broom closets and bathrooms. There's a horrible sick feeling in his stomach. Whatever's going to happen, he has to prevent it, he has to stop it—

"Mulciber? Mulciber?" he calls, but there's no sign of Mulciber or MacDonald.

"Looks like the snitch has been spotted, ladies and gentlemen! Hossein and Black are neck and neck, tearing after it— a capture now could mean either a close victory or absolute and humiliating defeat for Slytherin!"

"Fuck!" Shouts Severus. "Mulciber!"


In the broom closet, Mulciber moves towards Mary.

"Now get on your knees."

She does, dropping to her knees slowly. Mulciber grabs her by the ponytail and forces her to look upwards. She stares at him blankly, waiting for orders. He starts to undo the fly on his trousers.

"Good. That's where you belong. Now—"

He's about to say something else but then someone knocks madly on the door.

"Mulciber? Mulciber, are you in there?"

Mulciber curses under his breath. "What is it?"

Severus's panicked voice floats through the door. "We've got to go. Professor McGonagall's coming this way, she's searching broom cupboards because apparently people have been putting Dungbombs in them—"

"Fuck," says Mulciber. He does up his zipper, then pushes Mary aside and opens the door.

Severus is on the other side, looking agitated. "There you are. Come on, we'd better go back to the castle before anyone finds us here."

He sees MacDonald, now sitting quietly against the wall of the closet where Mulciber threw her.

"What were you doing with her?" Severus says, not sure he wants to know the answer.

"Nevermind that, let's just get out of here."

Severus hesitates. "What about her?"

"Forget about her. Mary, stay here and don't come out until someone finds you. And don't tell anyone anything."

Severus stares at her… it can't be… Mulciber's just a student, like him—

"Come on, hurry!" Mulciber exits the broom closet, and slams the door behind him. Severus gets one last look at Mary's vacant face before it shuts.


The Gryffindor team is gathered in the changing room, looking sombre. Marlene is sitting on a bench, looking distraught as James towers above her, a pillar of fury.

"What the hell happened out there, Marlene? What were you thinking? I don't care if you've been confunded of if you had too much to drink last night or whatever pitiful excuse you have to give me, you should never have jeopardized my team like that, never! I don't understand how you could be so stupid, so selfish, so reckless—"

"Alright, calm down, Potter." Says Cresswell. "I think she's had enough. We won, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we won— barely! If Slytherin had caught the snitch instead... We could have lost everything because of her, everything!"

"Hardly everything, is it? Just one Quidditch match."

James glares at him, clearly not in agreement.

"I'd be interested to hear what she's got to say for herself," says Fenwick.

They look at Marlene, who is on the verge of tears.

"Fine then," snaps James. "Tell us, then, why you nearly fucked everything up for everyone in this room."

Marlene takes a deep breath. When she speaks she takes small, shuddering gasps, trying very hard not to cry. "Last night... I was with a friend... we did some charms..."

Cresswell frowns, confused. "What's your homework got to do with it?"

"No, you're not listening. I did some charms. Bewitchments, you know...the bad kind. When I woke up this morning, I still felt... I was still... I thought it would've worn off by then, only it hadn't...I'm sorry. Please don't tell the professors, any of you, I'll be in so much trouble..."

"You've got to be joking," says James, thunderstruck. "You've got to be bloody joking."

She shakes her head.

"I don't get it," says Aisha.

"It's like muggle drugs," explains Fenwick. "Only a lot worse, these kinds of spells can go horribly wrong. Mess you up forever, in here." He taps the side of his head

Aisha goes silent, wide-eyed in horror.

"So let me get this straight— you were high?" Cresswell says slowly.

"What? No, I said I was charmed. Weren't you listening?"

"High is what muggles say when they use drugs," Fenwick says. He frowns, thoughtful. "I s'pose it's sort of the same thing."

"I don't care what muggles call it. What I call it is idiotic." James says.

"I'm sorry." Marlene really is crying now.

James is pitiless. "Not good enough. I should've realised you were going off the deep end when you started with those bloody Boosting charms. Now this... until you get yourself sorted, McKinnon, I want you the hell off my team. Get out of here. Now."

He points at the door.

"But—"

"Get out."

He points towards the exit. She wipes at her tear-streaked face, picks up her kit and leaves.

As she heads towards the castle, head hanging in shame, she sees Nicola Selwyn and Corrin Shea a little ahead of her, sitting on a stone pillar and sharing a cigarette. Nicola looks at her, and Shea calls out as she passes.

"Oi, McKinnon, what was that out there? You haven't been confunded, have you?"

Marlene tries to ignore it.

"I asked you a question, McKinnon!"

"Leave her alone," says Nicola.

Shea and Marlene pause, surprised.

"What did you say?" Says Shea.

"I said leave her alone, alright? She hasn't been confunded. She was charmed, alright? We both were."

He looks from one to the other, bewildered. "You both— Nicola, what's going on?"

Nicola sighs, resigned to explaining. "When we were in the hospital wing we got to talking, and... I don't know, do I? We've been doing charms together lately, that's all, she's really good at them."

"Oh that's all, is it?" he says incredulously, sliding off the pillar to stare at her. "And when were you thinking of telling me? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I don't have to tell you everything I do, Corrin. Besides, I was going to tell you eventually. She's really good at them, like I said, I was still feeling it this morning... and so was she. Clearly."

They look at Marlene, then at each other.

"McKinnon, fancy coming with us?" Nicola says.

"You must be joking," says Marlene hollowly. "I've just been kicked off my bloody team!"

Nicola nods. "Exactly why you need to feel better."

Marlene and Shea exchange uncertain glances, neither quite trusting the other.

"Come on, McKinnon, if you've already been kicked off what've you got to lose?"

Marlene bites her lip, seeing the truth in that.


The Gryffindor party in honour of their victory is in full swing, with loud rock n' roll music playing from a gramophone pushed against the wall. The DJ flips discs onto the player with a wave of his wand, and a group of students is boogie-ing in the center of the room, having a great time.

Lily is hovering alone at the edge of a group of people, holding a glass of punch and looking around the common room anxiously for either of her friends. She hasn't seen them all evening.

Remus approaches her.

"Hey, Lily. Everything alright?"

"Hi Remus," she says distractedly. "Yeah, everything's fine, I just can't find Marlene or Mary. I haven't seen them since the match and I'm starting to get worried."

Remus frowns. "I don't know about Mary, but I'm sure Marlene just needed some time to herself. James takes Quidditch very seriously, I don't think he'd've been too happy with her after how she was playing."

"Right," Lily says.

They look over at James, who has hoisted little Aisha over his head, presenting her to the world as she laughs madly.

"Gryffindor's saviour, ladies and gentlemen!" he yells to the crowd. "The woman of the hour! Your seeker, Aisha Hossain! Remember her name!

There's whooping and cheering all around. Aisha waves, a little shyly but looking pleased all the same.

Lily sighs. "Why can't he be as nice to everyone else as he is to that little girl?"

Remus laughs.

"He's not so bad deep down, honest," he says.

"Says you. I know what I've seen."

"Yeah, I s'pose it's too much to hope the two of you'd ever get along," Remus says wryly.

"You can say that again. It was a good game, though, wasn't it, all things considered?"

"There is an awful lot to consider."

"You can say that again, too," says Lily. "I've got no idea what was wrong with Marlene, did James say anything to you?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing, none of the team will talk about it."

Lily scans the room again, fretful. "And I know I asked earlier, but are you sure you haven't seen Mary anywhere? I was so sure she'd be here."

"I'm really sorry Lily, I haven't seen either of them anywhere."

The DJ switches the record over with a wave of his wand; Lily hear the first strains of an upbeat tune she recognises— Steve Harley's Make Me Smile— she grins a little. The tune is infectious, it's one she and Sev had listened to all summer. "Well I don't know, maybe they both need some time on their own. Maybe I am worrying too much..."

"It's possible," Remus says amusedly.

She laughs. "Right, well, no more of that. Come on, Remus, let's dance then!"

"Oh, no, I don't—"

"'Course you do, come on!"

She pulls him to his feet, he reluctantly goes with her. She moves to the beat, and he follows along a little self-consciously. Her enthusiasm is contagious, however, and he soon starts getting into it a little more.

"—come up and see me, make me smile—"

James, who is spinning Aisha around, sees them and gets distracted mid-twirl. What on earth is Remus doing dancing with Lily Evans? He feels an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach.

"—or do what you want, running wild—"

"Hang on, Aisha, I think I need another drink."

Fenwick appears out of nowhere. "I'll take her off your hands. You're much too good for the likes of Potter, anyway, Aisha."

Fenwick, who is almost twice Aisha's height, bows to her exaggeratedly.

"May I have this dance, O lady saviour."

"You can if you never call me that again," says Aisha, giggling.

"Deal!"

Laughing, James heads to the food table. He stops by the two bowls of punch and contemplates them. Dorcas joins him.

"Which one is it that's spiked?" she says.

James turns to look at her, mock outraged. "Are you suggesting I spiked the punch? What do you take me for?"

She eyes him, and he gives in.

"Alright, yeah, it's the orange-y one. I told Aisha it was Dirigible plum juice to make sure she steers well clear."

Dorcas laughs and ladles him a glass, then one for herself.

"Cheers," she says.

"Cheers," says James.

They clink glasses, drink, then look at each other a little awkwardly.

"You were really good out there. Cresswell was too, but—"

"But I was better?"

She pushes him gently, affectionately.

"I didn't say that, you prat. Although I s'pose I wouldn't know. I wasn't really paying attention to Cresswell, to be honest."

James grins, pleased. "Oh, is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

James takes a courageous swig of punch, draining the glass. He sets it down.

"Right, well... d'you feel like dancing?

Dorcas smiles and takes his hand.

They dance for a while, and James tries to not look at Remus and Evans, who seem to be having a great time together. For some reason, he feels annoyed with Remus—

"James?" Says Dorcas.

"Sorry," he says. "Got distracted."

And he twirls her away from Remus and Evans. They have fun for a while, and James finds he's able to relax properly for the first time all day.

After the song ends, though, it grows awkward again.

"Get you another drink?" he offers.

"Yeah, go on then."

He goes to do so and returns quickly to her side with the drinks. He hands her one.

James ruffles his hair. "Er, so, what do you—"

He's interrupted by Sirius appearing, slinging a companionable arm around his neck.

"You two aren't still drinking that revolting plum juice, are you? You know, I've still got some of the strong stuff."

He shows them a mostly-full bottle of Firewhisky.

"Fancy cracking it open?

James looks at Dorcas, who shrugs, blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

It's dark, and Mary can only see thanks to a small patch of moonlight coming in through the roof. She shivers, wishing she was in bed but unable to move.

Then the door opens, flooding the room with light—

As her eyes adjust to the brightness, she makes out Severus Snape silhouetted in the doorway, wand tip glowing brightly.

"There. I've found you." He says, expression unreadable. "You can go back to the castle now."

She stands up shakily, walks past him without even looking.

A group of students are arranged in a semi-circle in front of the fire, sharing a bottle of firewhisky. James and Dorcas are on the sofa next to each other, legs very close together indeed.

Lily sits between Remus and Cresswell, feeling more than a little out of place.

"Well Thalia Rowle and her friends are leaving school next year, aren't they?" Fenwick is saying. "That leaves Slytherin with what, all of two players."

James nods. "Right. I s'pose Andrews will be captain next year, that's a laugh. I doubt he's ever had a clever or original thought in his life."

"Because you're just full of those, aren't you, Potter." Says Lily before she can stop herself.

He looks over at her with irritation.

"Did anyone ask you, Evans? Why are you here, anyway?"

"Leave it out, James," says Remus.

"And why should he?" demands Dorcas. "It wasn't him being rude, was it?"

She shoots Lily a dirty look as well.

"Well, he was, technically," Fenwick points out.

"To a Slytherin. Hardly counts, does it?"

There's laughter, not shared by Lily.

"Well if that's your policy no wonder you're so horrible to everyone. I s'pose you think you can just get away with anything, don't you."

He takes his arm from around Dorcas to lean forward and address her directly. "Well, that'll be the day. I seem to be in detention half the time. What's this about, Evans? Not still worked up over poor old Snivellus, are you?"

"Don't call him that," snaps Lily. "See, this is exactly what I mean. You think just because Sev's a Slytherin, and he's got no friends, and because you don't like him—"

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter. "Got no friends? You're delusional. I suppose Mulciber and that lot are more of just casual acquaintances, are they?"

"Hang on," says Fenwick. "Are we talking about that greasy kid that hangs around with Mulciber and Rosier, the one who's always muttering curses and other rubbish under his breath? Something something Snape?"

"Yeah, that's him alright," Peter says darkly.

Fenwick eyes Lily critically. "Evans, is it? I'll give you some advice. When you get to be my age—"

"You're only seventeen, Benj," interjects Cresswell with a snicker.

Fenwick continues as if he hadn't spoken

"—you start realising that some people just aren't worth it. And let me tell you, that Snape fellow is bad news. Him and the rest of his lot. They're more than just ugly and annoying, they're downright dangerous. It's not a good time to be friends with Slytherins."

"Isn't that a little prejudiced?" Asks Lily.

He shakes his head. "You don't get it. But sadly, you will soon."

"What do you know about it? You don't even know him. I don't even know you. Actually, Potter, you're right. Why am I even here?" She shakes her head and stands up. "I'm going to bed. You can all stay here and say nasty things behind my back, or whatever it is you like to do."

Lily leaves stormily, and Remus stares, disappointed, after her.

"Great," he says dejectedly. "Well done, James. I don't understand why you're always so horrible to her.

"Me? She was the one who started it. Why do you even care, Remus?" he asks suspiciously.

"You don't fancy Evans, do you?" Asks Dorcas, crinkling her nose.

James stiffens as he waits for the answer. Remus having a thing for Little Miss Perfect is the last thing he needs. To his dismay, Remus turns a little pink.

"What? No, of course I don't!"

"Why do any of us care?" Sirius says, bored. "We're always talking about Evans. She can keep being friends with Snape if she bloody well likes, can't she? What's it to any of us?

"Really, Black?" Says Fenwick sharply. "You don't see how it's dangerous for a Muggleborn girl to be involved with someone in Mulciber's crowd? You ought to know better than anyone here what they're like."

"Why would I know better than anyone?" Sirius says, a little defensively.

"Your brother's one of them, isn't he? And your cousin was Mulciber's biggest hero when we were in first year. I remember her vividly, Merlin, she was horrible."

"Oh. Bellatrix, yeah." Says Sirius with a shudder. "I see what you mean, I would know."

"It's just a shame. Evans seems like a nice girl, all things considered. She doesn't deserve to be mixed up in all that." Fenwick sighs heavily, getting to his feet as well. "Well now that I've officially ruined the mood, I'll be off to bed as well. I'll leave you kids to it."

Cresswell rolls his eyes. "You're seventeen. You're barely more than a kid yourself."

Fenwick ignores him. "Goodnight, my beautiful children. And Sirius."

Sirius gives him a confused look as he leaves, but Fenwick only grins back.

"Marlene's right, he really is weird, isn't he?" Says Cresswell as he leaves.

The atmosphere perceptibly changes at the mention of Marlene, a topic they'd all been avoiding. Cresswell looks guiltily at James.

"Great, thanks, Cresswell. I was drinking to forget and now you've reminded me." He stands too. "Fancy going for a walk, Dorcas?"

"Yeah, where to?" She replies.

He helps her to her feet.

"I don't know, anywhere."

She nods, takes his arm and they head together towards the portrait hole. Sirius watches them go sulkily.

"Pass me that bottle, Peter."

Peter passes the bottle, which is now nearly empty.

Cresswell sighs as the portrait hole swings shut. "Christ, everyone's so tightly wound tonight. You'd think we lost or something."

"Are James and Dorcas together?" Asks Peter.

Remus frowns. "I know they're friends, he hasn't said anything else to me."

They look at Sirius expectantly, waiting for him to shed light on the situation. He only shrugs moodily. "How should I know?"

"Well if he is, maybe he could get her to ask Blanca out for me."

"You've got a mouth that works, haven't you Pete? Ask her yourself." Sirius snaps, not in the mood to talk about girls.

"Think I'll go to bed as well," Remus says, getting to his feet. "Good flying today, Cresswell."

"Hang on, what if James forgets—" Peter stops, glances at Cresswell nervously. "—the incantation. For our furry problem. Every night, James said."

"You lot aren't back to doing your weird chanty things again, are you?" Says Cresswell. "Christ, can't a bloke have some peace and quiet in his own dormitory?"

"Just plug your ears, Cresswell," Sirius says. "I'd almost forgot too, to be honest."

"Good thing I reminded you then. Good thing I remembered." Peter looks worriedly at the portrait hole.

"I'm sure James will remember."

"What about Remus?" Cresswell says.

Sirius is quick to answer.

"Remus never forgets anything. Memory like a Jobberknoll, him."

"Jobber-what? Right, that's it, I've had enough of you lot for one night. I'll see you tomorrow." Cresswell stands, just as the portrait hole opens.

Mary MacDonald enters, looking around disorientedly.

"Mary?" says Cresswell. "Do you know what time it is? Where were you?"

"I was…" She frowns, seemingly unable to remember.

"Are you alright?" He peers at her in concern.

She hugs him, and he pats her back nervously.

"You're shaking," Cresswell says. "Whats—"

"I'm… I'm fine," Mary says, drifting towards the spiral staircases. "See you later."

He stares after her, bewildered.


"I don't wander 'round much at night, really. It's so quiet," says Dorcas.

They're wandering around the shadowy seventh floor in companionable, if slightly awkward, silence. James reaches for her hand.

"Then you're missing the best part of Hogwarts. Nobody around means you can go anywhere you like."

"Where are we going, though? We've passed this same tapestry twice now."

"Yeah, it is a bit of an eyesore, isn't it," James says.

They stop and look at it. It depicts a man attempting to teach a group of trolls to do the ballet.

"Maybe we should go back soon," says Dorcas.

James turns around, and spots a door on the opposite wall that hadn't been there before. Not only that, but he could swear it isn't on the map, nor has he ever seen it in all his years at Hogwarts.

"Hang on, what's through that door? I've never noticed it before."

She frowns. "Don't know, I've never noticed it either."

He grins, tugs on her hand lightly.

"Well come on then, let's find out."

He pushes the door open and they enter into a room James knows he's never seen before.

It's spacious, beautifully lit with hundreds upon hundreds of candles. Rose petals line the floor, leading to a large, single, four poster bed with a canopy in the centre of the room.

Dorcas and James look around in wonder as they enter.

"This is... beautiful," Dorcas says in wonder. "What is this room?"

James takes it in. "I have no idea. And that's saying something, I thought I knew this school inside and out." He stares at the four-poster bed, his mind doing cartwheels. It seemed like this room, and its bed, and its rose petals had appeared just at the right time. Like Hogwarts had somehow known— he swallows, suddenly nervous.

"Shows what any of us know, right?"

"Right."

Dorcas picks up a whole rose and puts it to her nose, smelling it. "Are you sure you didn't do all this?"

"I wish I could say I did, but that would be, well, a big fat lie."

"I suppose it doesn't matter, does it? It's perfect." She sits on the edge of the bed and pats the space next to her, inviting him to sit down. She holds the rose out for him to inspect.

"Yeah, it's a really pretty flower, Dorcas. I—"

He's more nervous than he thought he would be, normally unshakable confidence being put to the test. This is somehow a lot more difficult than Quidditch.

She seems to read his mind. "It's alright if you're nervous, James. I am too."

"Really? You don't seem like it."

"Well, I'm good at pretending."

She takes his hand.

"I've never done this before," he admits.

"No, neither have I."

He sits down next to her. "Are you sure you want to?"

She nods.

"Are you?"

He kisses her by way of answer. It starts fairly innocent but grows deeper, Dorcas undoing the buttons of his shirt and pushing it off over his shoulders.

They break apart for a second, regarding each other.

Wordlessly, she lifts her arms and lets him pull her top over her head.

It falls to the floor, forgotten about as she pulls him close again.


Lily lies awake, unable to sleep. After a moment, she gets up, pours herself a glass of water from the glass pitcher near the door.

She looks around at the other beds— first at Blanca's, occupied by a peacefully slumbering Blanca. Then at Dorcas's, Marlene's, and finally Mary's. All empty.

"Shit," Lily says, coming to a decision.

She hurries back to her bed and snatches her wand off her bedside table, shrugging on her dressing gown.

Just as she does, the door opens and Mary creeps in.

"Mary!"

She hurries to her side and hugs her. Mary is stiff at first, then softens into the hug, trembling a little.

"Where on earth have you been?" Lily demands. "I've been worried sick, I have. I was just about to go out looking for you. Where were you? What happened?"

Mary looks at her, haunted. "Oh Lily... I don't know... I don't know what's happened... I can't remember anything..."

She starts to cry quietly, shoulders shaking. Alarmed, Lily holds her tightly, leading her back to her bed.

"There, there. It's alright, everything's alright now, hush."

Mary gets into her bed, and after a moment, Lily gets in after her.

"I'm right here, alright? Just like when we were in first year and you used to get nightmares about the forest. Remember that?"

Mary nods.

"Just try to sleep, Mary. Everything will be brighter in the morning."